Angel of Cannes
by 3 of clubs
Summary: What happens when the Dursleys take a family holiday to Cannes, France? Dudley definetly didn't expect this.
1. Chapter 1

As the bright Mediterranean sun filtered though number 405's rooms curtains, Dudley Dursley slowly awoke to the loud calls of seagulls and the salty smell of the sea, which drifted in through the open window, where now and then a pleasant breeze would pass though, lifting the curtain and and ruffling the different leaflets and flyers which littered the desk on the far wall of the small hotel room. A small yawn passed Dudley's lips as he made his way toward the en suite bathroom, clicking joints and stretching limbs all the way. Upon entering the bathroom Dudley flicked on the light switch, flooding the room in a bright light, causing him to squint as he made his way to the mirror. Staring back from the mirror was a man of average height and muscular build, which came from long, intense workouts at the gym and heavy weight-lifting section. His face was round but had a defined jaw line. His thick blonde hair, which had lightened immensely after only being in Cannes for three days, was ruffled and had a definite bed head look after tossing and turning in bed last night. The course of these odd nocturnal occurrences brought a cloud of fear to cover his usual pale blue eyes . But Dudley refused to think of such nightmares whilst he was still conscious, preferring to let his subconscious deal with it whilst he was safely in bed. With this thought he turned his back to the mirror, and anxious reflection, and lazily ruffled his hair whilst making he's way toward the shower.

Shaking small droplets of water from his hair, Dudley opened he's suitcase, which lay on the floor near to the bed that still wasn't unpacked, and pulled out fresh underwear, long shorts and a white polo shirt. Sitting on the bed he pulled on a pair of white trainer socks before he's actual trainers. Slipping he's key card in his shorts pocket and carefully shutting the door behind him he made his way towards the opposite room. Room 406, which accommodated Vernon and Petunia Dursley, Dudley's parents. But if it was left to them they would be sharing rooms accessible to each other, but this is when Dudley put he's foot down. He was a grown man for Christ sake, a man of 27 no less, and he needed his own privacy, not that his parents didn't know everything about him, or that for some mysterious reason he'd have a women over, it's just that Dudley liked the feeling of independence, having relied far to heavily on others for the first half of his life. After a three sharp knocks from Dudley and a five second wait, a very thin blonde woman's head appeared in the crack between the door and the wall which had just appeared, her head stuck several centimetre in the hallway thanks to her abnormally long neck.

"oh, Dudders, it's you. I thought it was those horrid boys from room 409. They came stumbling in at about half three this morning, trying getting in our room thinking it was theirs. Drunk they were," Mrs Dursley said to her son before leaning closely and casting a nervous glance up and down the corridor, making sure no one was there, "and if you ask me on something a bit stronger, if you know what i mean." She gave Dudley a knowing look.

Dudley couldn't help but inwardly smile to himself. He knew full well that his mother was never happier when she was gossiping and stirring trouble, abroad or on holiday.

"It's up to them mum how they spend their holidays. I bet that they are regretting it now" all Mrs Dursley answered with was a small hum. "Are you and dad ready to go down for breakfast yet?" Asked Dudley whilst trying to see his father behind his mother's back.

"No, your fathers not feeling too well, he got too much sun yesterday. He'll have to stay in bed or at least inside most of the morning. We'll meet you by the pool at lunch I think. "

With a short goodbye and bidding his father well, Mrs Dursley firmly shut the door as Dudley turned around, deciding to get out of the hotel and explore the town a little more.


	2. Chapter 2

After only being walking for 10 minutes Dudley already found himself out of the main concentrated tourist area of the city, walking up an old cobbled road, which had a slight hill. Even though he had only been out for 10 minutes he had only seen a handful of people, most of which where opening windows which towered over him from the tall houses on either side of the road. After glancing at his wrist watch he found out the very reason.

It was only half seven in the morning, an hour Dudley hadn't seen in a very long time. His train on thoughts then quickly turned to the reason he had woken up so early. Try as hard as he might he couldn't go a full day without think of the nightmare if he'd had it the night before. He still didn't know what still frightened him, it was the same nightmare again and again, no new surprises. And after it plaguing his sleep for twelve years you would of thought he was used to it.

Well, he knew that that was a lie, usually it didn't happen every night. For the past eight years he'd been able to get at least two weeks worth of peaceful sleep, sometimes even three weeks when other worries would occupy he's thoughts. But for the past three nights he had had it. At first he blamed it on the travelling, as he's never appreciated the brightly light,over-crowded airports, before or after a long uncomfortable flight. But now it seemed that the difference in environment had caused it, or too much sun, or lack of routine, home sickness. The truth was Dudley didn't know what it was and it wasn't like he could exactly go to a doctor, or psychologist, claiming that he was having bad dreams caused by non-human creates called Dementors which also happen to be invisible to most people except a small hidden majority of the worlds population which conveniently are witches and wizards. Yeah, coz he wont get locked up in the loony bin for that!

At first he had gone to the hospital after the attack, although he hadn't remember much about that, he just kind of found him self there. And after that hadn't been much help as the doctors couldn't explain his low temperature or pale face and had ended up just sending him home with the request of him staying warm and having plenty of rest.

That's when the nightmares had started, when he'd wake up in the middle of the night with a cold sweat and screening the house down. It was sort of ironic in a way, how the day had started with him mocking his cousin about have bad dreams, about screening in his sleep, and had ended with him having the same problem.

Even though the dreams have become less frequent they did get get worse two years afterwards, they turned from the usual flashes of all the countless guilty images of him bulling someone, the faces of the friends who never really did like him but didn't want to be at the receiving end of one of his beatings, but has now turned to his cousins face, twisty and moulded in to face of agony and pain, so much more from the face he made after Dudley beat him. No, this is the face a man would make when dying a painful death. And even though he had never seen Harry wear that expression it seemed to always haunt him, eating away at his concisions.

But Harry had to be alive, I mean he was Harry. Harry who had serviced 11 years under the stairs, survived countless attacks from both himself and Dad, physically and mentally. Not to mention the loss of both his parents. Yeah, Harry must have survived it, he must have won his war, or they wouldn't have let him leave the safe house they put him and his parents in.

Dudley had to hold on to that or the guilt would must likely swallow him whole. But they were still that uncertainty, that doubt in the back of his mind, no one had ever actually told him what happened, just a brief telling that he and his parents could go and a telephone number for a local taxi company, which had been paid for in advance of course.

After that he'd had no real contact with the wizarding world, no letters, owl or post box. So he had to get on with his life, slowly come to accept that he'll never get to see his cousin again. And both he's parents seemed upset about this, even his Dad has admitted missed him. Granted he had been drunk, and still refereed him as a "Boy", but that made it all the more truthful and meaningful. And he has caught his Mum more than one time crying, for him or her sister. A sad smile appeared on Dudley's face, for all the memorise of Harry, which at the time he probable didn't appreciate but now found hilarious.

Especial the time he had blown up his aunt Marge, at the time he thought it was annoying how every one was shouting whilst he was trying to watch TV. But thoughts of aunt Marge had bought another sad smile to his lips. She'd passed away last month, hart failure. It had hit Dad badly, I never really knew how much he loved his sister, but after he started drinking more and refusing to go to work we all thought it be best if we took some time off, and that's how we found our selves in sunny Cannes.

Finally reaching the top of the street, Dudley looked around for a place to sit. A ringing of a bell caught his attention to the left of him and after further investigation Dudley came across a small bakery with tables and chairs inside, making it almost seem like a café. After checking his pocket for change, he seemed to have the good sense to bring some, he entered the bakery intending to buy some breakfast.

Upon entering the bell chimed, which had attacked him here, confirming his presence to the other customers and woman behind the counter. Only three of the six customers looked up before going back to either their newspapers or food, all of them distinctively French. Walking up to the counter Dudley dug around in his shorts pocket from his wallet.

Smiling at the plump woman with grey hair who stood behind the counter, Dudley recited the only French he knew. "Parlez-vous anglais?" _Do you speak English? _He received a small sharp shake her head as the only answer, which caused Dudley to internally groan as he was never very good at his school work, especially French.

Fishing out a folded piece of paper from his wallet Dudley searched for the required sentence on the paper which had been scribbled on in a haste by his best mate Piers after he realised he could only speak about two words of French on his own. Scanning through the text he found the desired question, ".Er... P-Puis-je avoir une croissants? ...S'il vous plaît ." _Can I have a __croissant__? Please._

God, how he hoped he had at least pronounced that right. Whether he did or not it seemed to have done the job as the woman seemed to have understood him as she wrote something in a little book on the counter which seemed to be a bill and then in a deliberately slow voice, which Dudley wsa glad for, said; " 50 cent s'il vous plaît " 50 cent_ please. _

After handing over the required amount of change, the woman gestured with her hands for him to take a set at one of the tables with which he responded with what can only be described as a mumbled "mercy" in a very English accent.

Lowering him self on wicker chair Dudley looked around at the dainty bakery/café. With framed pictures of French country sides, as well as vineyards, covering the pale blue wall the place had a very authentic French feel about it and Dudley felt as if he had gone back in time to a much simpler place. After only imagining himself in such a time for a couple of seconds, the woman behind the counter wandered over, placing a simple looking white plat with a croissant on top on the table as well as two small dishes filled with what looked like butter and strawberry jam.

After a childhood with an unhealthy relationship with food, Dudley had begun to enjoy the special one-off treats he allowed himself, so took his time as he slowly ripped a piece of pastry off, allowing steam to slowly pour off, before using the knife, which was already on the table, to load it with butter than jam. Even after the first bit Dudley already felt guilty, which only came about from years of dieting and hard work outs, and promised himself that he'd take some laps in the hotel pool once he got back.

And it wouldn't do for his boys back at home to say he got slow over his holidays, they wouldn't let him forget it for weeks. It was all in good fun of course, he'd already taught the regular boys what it was like to bully and how it never really got you any where. Setting up a sought of youth clubs was one of his rare good ideas he'd had in his life, a place where kids to get of the streets, away from harassing others, and to direct their punches at an anonymous object, in stead of a person, and for other bullies victims to toughen up, even though violence is never the answer.

With it being paid for by the local council the pay wasn't that good but it was good enough for him, as he only really needed to pay his rent for his two bedroomed flat and groceries. He didn't live with any one, no girl friend, and doesn't go out that much. With Piers only being his true mate he didn't feel the need to. And although he wasn't the world famous boxer he used want to be when he was younger, he was councillor/boxing coach, with an average pay and _a _true friend, he was relatively happy at this time of his life. And to add to that he was now staring out of the huge display windows at the front of the shop, watching sunny sunny Cannes, which had now began to slowly fill with more locals.

After finishing his croissant and musing, Dudley slowly stared to stand up before he heard the high ring of the bell above the door. He looked to see who the new costumer was. And that is the moment when Dudley Dursley felt as if all the air had been sucked from the room.


	3. Chapter 3

In a daze, Dudley finally found himself back at the hotel, never noticing the surrounding scenery of his route, and instead just followed his feet. Stumbling through the reception of the hotel, Dudley then quickly emerged back out in the sun and in to the pool area.

Only after having sat down in a cheap, white plastic chair that surrounded the pool, did Dudley finally seem to wake from his trance-like state. He'd some how found himself sat next to his mother and father without actually remembering seeing them.

His mother, who had her head stuck in a gossip magazine, merely looked at him as a greeting before going back to reading whatever scandal had happen in the celebrate world. His father, who was half hidden under the shade of a huge umbrella, give a quick nod of the head to him before leaning his head back, and what Dudley assumed closing his eyes but couldn't be sure as they were cover with huge square, blacked out sun glass. Dudley must admit that his dad was in a bad shape. He could see the bright redness of his nose, even through the think layer of sun cream, an the already large wet patches under his arms, causing his baggy grey top to go even darker in places.

Deciding his dad could look after himself, Dudley turned around and watch the various families playing in and around the pool. Not long after this did Dudley's mind recall the mornings previous activities.

With out noticing, Dudley's eyes slide shut, hoping to get a better sight of _her_ without the distractions of the out side world. As soon as _she _worked in to the shop he simply stared at _her,_ his bottom jaw going slack. _Her_ smile seemed to lighten the whole shop up, giving the place a certain glow about it, and everthing looked that so much better. As she walked to the counter with the easy which came with familiarity, he was hypnotized by the curtain of _her_ silvery-blonde hair, that swung side to side with each step, mimicking the sway of _her_ hips.

The woman behind the counter, who was now in the presence of _her _looked so much more beautiful, talked to _her_ in fluent French, something Dudley couldn't understand a word of. And when finally _she_ spoke he still couldn't understand but knew that he could listen to her all day, because when she spoke it sound as if _she_ were singing.

After _she_ received freshly baked baguette in exchange for some money _she_ turned around and Dudley got a flash of _her_ pale blue, sparkling eyes, the same shade as her sky-blue summer dress, before _she _turned and walked out to the street, and just like when _she_ talked _she _sang, when _she _walked _she_ danced.

Dudley most have stood there like an idiot for a few moments once she'd gone, but after gathering his thoughts and firmly shutting his mouth, Dudley quickly left. And that's where he had started his daze journey back to the hotel.

A cold splash of water brought Dudley out of his _reminiscing_ from a boy who had just jumped into the pool close by, causing Dudley to jump out of his seat. Deciding a good swim would clear his mind of a certain blonde woman, Dudley trudged upstairs to gets his swimming shorts on.


	4. Chapter 4

With a start, Dudley woke. Bathed in a cold sweat and lightly panting, Dudley untangled himself from his sheets and swung him legs over the bed. Leaning his elbows on his knees and burring his head in his hand, Dudley slowly started to calm down.

Running his hands through his hair, he looked around the room which was cast in an eerie white glow from the moon that hung lazily in the sky. His eyes finally landed on the digital clock on it bed side table, the glowing red letters reading 01:34.

With an audible groan, Dudley pushed off the bed and headed in to the bathroom. Grabbing the the glass which stood next to the sink, he quickly filled it with tap water. After quickly gulping down the water, Dudley replaced the glass on the sink edge, making a face at the rancid taste the water had left in his mouth. Turning on the tap again he filled his cupped hands and proceeded to splash water on his face before the back of his neck in an attempt to cool down.

Leaving the tap running Dudley looked up in to the mirror. Red blood shot eyes and pale and pasty skin, which was dripping with water, was not what Dudley was hoping for. With a sigh of defeat, Dudley turned away from the mirror, flicking the tap off, and walked back in to his room, over to the window.

With a gentle push Dudley opened the window as far as he could, enjoying the pleasant feel of the cool night air on his face. The sound of the waves and occasional distant sea gull seemed to lull Dudley in to a calmer frame of mind. His thoughts seemed to clear as he watch the moonlight reflect against the relatively flat sea. With his heart beat now at at steady rhythm, Dudley could slowly feel exhaustion slowly creep up on him.

Dropping on to his front, he landing on his bed in a hump, pulling and twisting his sheets out from under himself. For a while he idly watched the breeze make the flyers by the door curl at the corners before slowly flatting, only to repeat it over and over. The glossy pages reflected the moon light, giving them a silvery glow. It was something about this silvery glow which seem to entice Dudley but he was unable to think why as he's mind was now thick with exhaustion.

As Dudley's now heavy lids were starting to close his slowly working brain finally recognised the silvery glow, it was the same as _her_ hair. So on that nigh, as Dudley feel in to a dreamless sleep, his last thoughts were of her and how his silver haired angel had kept away the black hooded demons.

* * *

><p>The next morning started similar as the last. The leaflets still stirred in the breeze form the open window where bright sunlight also streamed in. The sound of waves and sea gulls filled the room with the smell of the sea. Rolling over, Dudley tried to block the bright light ,which he could see through his eyelids, and tried to get back to his peaceful sleep, the best he's had in weeks.<p>

As awareness slowly started to dawn on Dudley he bolted upright in his bed. Scrambling round his bed stand he franticly searched for his watch.. He starred at the watch for a minute, letting his eyes adjust.10 to 7. After some quick calculations and guess work he figured he woken twenty minutes earlier yesterday. He practically jumped out of bed, pausing only a moment to let the dizziness pass, before continuing to the bath room.

Grabbing a quick shower, where he vigorously cleaned himself, he tried to calm his nerves. Wrapping a towel around his waist he quickly shaved which only caused him to cut most of he's chin. Cursing softly to him self his stuck on toilet paper before getting dressed. His best white polo shirt and clean shorts where then smoothed over his body to avoid further creasing. Returning to the bathroom he grabbed his towel and roughly towel dried his hair. Smoothing down his hair with a comb in front of the mirror he then whipped away the tissue from his cuts, which had thankfully stopped bleeding.

Grabbing his wallet and watch he swiftly left the room, accidentally slamming the door. At the loud slam of a door, Mrs Dursley's head quickly pooped out of her own room, hoping to witness a dramatic scene or argument she could later gossip about. To her confusion the only culprit of the loud bang could have been her son, who was now half jogging half walking down the hall way.

"Duddiekin's, whe-where are you going?" she half shouted to her son was now nearing the stairs, her voice clouded with concern.

"Erm..for a walk. Be back in a bit.." Dudley said with a wave of his hand. Whatever concerned words Mrs Dursley was trying to tell her son fell on deaf ears as he was already racing down the stair, hoping he hadn't already missed _her_.


	5. Chapter 5

_Don'tPanic Don'tPanic Don'tPanic Don'tPanic Don'tPanic_

It seemed to be a constant chant, going over and over in his head. It matched his panicked quick paces as he walked up and down different streets and alley ways, all in search for a clue as to where the café was. Dudley was now at a cross road, one he was sure he had seen at least five times that day, and was forced with a choice. Forward, right, behind or left. He began turning in mad violent turns, losing where he had just come from.

When he first set off he was so sure he knew where he was going, positive he could find the café again. But the first time he went there he was just mindlessly wondering, not paying attention to where he was going, paying more attention to his thoughts. And on the way back, well he couldn't even remember walking back, just followed his feet but only saw _her_ in front of his eyes.

It didn't help that all the streets seemed to be the same. Same cobbled roads, high surrounding building, all with white and blue windows and doors. His determination was wavering now, his quick pace turning into him slowly dragging his feet. Maybe it never happened, maybe he just dreamed it up.

Spotting an old rickety bench at the side of the street, Dudley lowered him self, burying his head into his hands. He thought it was really, was sure he couldn't have made it up. He didn't have that good imagination. And all though the woman was unbelievable beautiful she did look real.

Stretching out on the bench, Dudley tripped his head back until it touched the wall, enjoying he feel of the sun on his face. Maybe he'll come tomorrow, have a proper look. She might not even go to the café every day, yesterday might have been a one off. Before slowly opening his eyes Dudley heard something that set his heart rate double its normal pace.

A distinct ringing of a bell could be heard a couple of streets away, and not just any bell. Thee bell. The bell on the café door where _she_ might be. With new determination Dudley practically jumped off the bench and almost ran to where he thought he heard the noise. And soon enough the café door with its peeling white door came into view.

Looking through the huge front window at the café inside he tried to see if _she_ was there. Before he even made it to the floor he ran straight into someone, knocking over them and whatever they were holding.

"Monsieur, je suis tellement désolée, je ne regardais où j'allais. Est-ce  
>que ça va?"she asked, her voice having almost musical tones.<p>

Dudley was just starring at her, tone tied with his mouth silently opening and closing.

"Monsieur?" she asked again, slightly worried by his vacant expression.

"I-I-Erm, Yes, sorry. I – I mean, sorry, are you okay?" he spluttered out, watching as she slowly stood up to face him, grabbing her brown paper bag as she went.

"You are, erm, English, oui?"she replied, her voice laced with a heavy French accent but legible all the same.

"Oui, yes, yes English. Do you speak English?" Dudley stuttered, still recovering from speaking to _her_.

"A little, my in-laws are English, but I'm not very good" she admitted.

Dudley couldn't help but feel his heart sink, she was married. Not that he had much chance with her anyway, but still, its practically impossible now.

His spirit now shatter Dudley simple add "yes well I'm sorry for knocking you over, I should really look where I'm going"

"No, no it was me, I was away _les lutins_"

_God why did she have to be so kind as well, this was making it even worse. But wait a minute, where's the wedding ring? Surely the French have wedding rings too. _

"So, are the pastries for the husband?" _Smooth Dudley, real way to keep it casual._

"Pardon? No, no no. I am, er , not husband. no."

Dudley could almost feel his face perk up.

"Well, I've got to go...au revoir" she said whilst turning around about to go.

And before Dudley could stop him self, "Dudley! I mean my name, its Dudley, and, and yours?" he almost shouted, a hopeful look on his face by the end.

"Gabrielle" she said with a smile, before walking off .

Just after disappearing Dudley slowly whispered her name, seeing how it would feel to say it, "Gabrielle".

Name of an angel, or close enough anyway.


End file.
